Not Quickly Broken
by JestaAriadne
Summary: Bombularina and Munkustrap try to hold things together after Demeter reappears. ((Friendship is so beautiful and so underrated.))


**NOTES:** (I wrote this story _years_ ago, but a ways' after my first CATS fic - I'd just seen the UK Tour and was so, so impressed and intrigued by Bombalurina, in this role as protector alongside Munkustrap, and she kinda became one of my very favourites from then on out. Anyway! This is old, but it was only ever posted at my CATSsite.)

* * *

><p><strong>1.<strong>

"Tug?"

"Mmm?

"Tell me I'm pretty, would you?"

"...Bombalurina, you are the embodiment of stunningly gorgeous ravishingness - can I use that as a noun? You left 'pretty' in the dust yonks ago. You are gorgeous, you are sexy, you are be-oo-tiful and the junkyard should be like _flooded_ cos of all the guys that melt at your feet. Feel better?"

"Mm."

"Bomb?"

"Mmm?"

Pause.

"...OK, I know that perceptive is not my strong suit, but I get the feeling you're kinda thinking about something here."

"Yeah, cos you know, thinking is this really fun thing. You should try it sometime."

"Haha... Look, if you like him so much, just go for it! I mean, come on. How could he resist? He's not completely braindead."

"It's not like- " Pause. It's no good her trying to explain. "It's stupid. We have nothing in common anyway. Nothing except the tribe... and her..."

* * *

><p><strong>2.<strong>

They were always together. It seems like an age ago... When Demeter used to follow Bombalurina around, which meant Bomb got to be all cool and like an honourary big sister and someone to look up to; it's kind of fun to be idolised. (Especially when you don't understand the influence you can have on someone who is really so different from yourself. There are moments of _such guilt_...) When Munkustrap - this is going way back now you understand - he used to babysit them because, even then, he was the Responsible One. Bomba would act up and flirt outrageously and generally cause chaos with every one of the prepubescent toms. Demeter copying her used to be _so_ artless and awful, hilarious and adorable. She was Munkustrap's favourite, not that he'd ever have admitted to such partiality.

They grew up a bit. The girls wanted adventure. To cut a longish story short, they found it, after a fashion, in some less than savoury districts. And the grown-ups muttered and worried which rather made it more interesting. The grown-ups didn't even know the half of it, of course; they never do. A few of the things that they saw - a few of the things that they did - worried Bombalurina, briefly, more than she'd like to let on. But she could look after herself; she could fight if she had to.

But she couldn't fight Demeter, couldn't change her mind when it was made up. They argued, shouting matches night after night, which only made things worse. Demeter was going to do what she wanted to do, go where she wanted to go. Because Demeter could look after herself. (And guess where she'd gotten _that_ brilliant idea from? Exactly. Influence, remember?)

Demeter...

Bomba's little sister. Munkustrap's favourite.

She was gone but she was still there. A presence. A ghost. A space between.

They grew up a bit more. A few months. Munkustrap and Bombalurina took on responsibilities, grew apart. It wasn't something they could quite have explained even they'd wanted to; it just happened like that.

_When Demeter tumbled back into their lives that night, all blood and bones and skin torn to pieces, she couldn't speak, couldn't meet your eyes._

* * *

><p><strong>3.<strong>

_This is a dream. Only a dream. Only-_

This is the room. The room where she lived her days and days and days, until all she could do was try to hide away in the corners, quiet as a mouse, wishing the walls would fall on her...

It began as a promise to herself: don't respond, not a word, not a sound, no matter what. No matter what he does, Dem, not a peep ok? Ok?

It feels like she's almost forgotten the sound of her own voice. Because HIS voice gets so far inside your head, how are you supposed to tell it apart from your own thoughts-?

And then the door creaks open like the bones that creak and show through the skin...

Macavity's smile eases open like a gash.

* * *

><p><strong>4.<strong>

Bombalurina had to break into a run, pushing rudely past the others, to catch up with Munkustrap as he strode away after finishing his speech to the Jellicles. The grey tabby had a habit of doing this lately. Walking away - very quickly - from social situations at the earliest polite juncture.

"Hey," she called to him when she was close enough. "Good speech..."

He turned around and shrugged. "It... was what they wanted to hear," he said.

That didn't sound too good. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, just that - all that about standing firm together, preparing to fight him once and for all if we have to... _I know_ that's very stirring stuff... it's very important too, of course, but..." He looked suddenly wretched. "But the thing is - it's just not about Macavity at all, is it. Not really."

"Oh, well..." said Bombalurina, feeling a bit guilty because she'd been perfectly happy agreeing with them all that it _was_ all about Macavity: specifically, about him getting his ugly face smashed in by someone, preferably her.

A moment passed, and she could almost _hear_ the sound of Munkustrap collecting himself again ever-so neatly back into himself.

"Right, I think that's everything," he said. "Thank you, Bombalurina."

She glared. "You never call me that." Pout.

"Sorry - Bomb... Sorry, I guess I'm tired."

"Yeah."

They stood facing each other. She nodded several times emphatically. Trapped in a moment again, she just wanted to break it, break it all down, but where to begin? Run to him, hold on to him, cling on like they were both drowning (like they were), beat her paws against his chest, _Tell me what's happening here!_... She wanted to pounce on him and give him a big fat hug because surely that would make things ok, at least for a little while, and at least for _her_...

But she didn't.

She wanted, absurdly, to burst into tears, to _make_ him react, to say - what?

She didn't. She couldn't.

"Do you want to go check on Deme or shall I?" Munkustrap asked abruptly.

"I'll go."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You need to get some sleep for a change."

They parted.

* * *

><p><strong>5.<strong>

Bombalurina is strong. This isn't particularly anything to be proud of; some are just like that. She's beautiful and witty and all, which helps, but it's more than that. She isn't really scared of anything. Harsh words don't tend to affect her. If she wants to fight, verbally or physically, she can. If she feels wretched she can deal with the feeling without doing anything too stupid. She simply refuses to be a victim.

Not that anyone's really ever tried to make her one.

Not like Deme.

Poor Deme...

The strong ones can be so awkward around those who aren't as strong, and who the world has broken, a little or a lot. And it can be so easy to be automatically scornful, to dismiss other people's pain, just because it would not have affected you quite so deeply.

(Bombalurina does not, for the record, exactly fancy her chances against Demeter's past. She _thinks_ she'd probably be better off, because she'd have gotten out sooner, while it was still anything like an option - but really she doesn't like to think about it very much at all.)

But Demeter is her... her sister-but-not-really, her golden girl, her little Dem... What would Munkustrap call her? His "responsibility"? That sounds so cold. Only he'd mean it. And after all what else could she be to him? Bombalurina tries, and fails, to imagine the word "friend" on Munkustrap's lips.

They're running themselves ragged over Demeter...

(She's getting better. She is. But they're getting worse.)

And, oddly enough maybe, it is mostly just the two of them. Very rarely does anyone else gets involved. Very rarely is anyone else allowed to.

Munkustrap can spend hours by Demeter's side, patient as the stars. Comforting her from her bad dreams, wiping away every single tear. Or just talking to her. Telling stories even. Stories! Munkustrap! He even does the voices. Demeter needs him. But in a funny way, it's like Munkustrap needs her just as much. Maybe it's more than _need_, or could be, under other circumstances.

Sometimes, there's an awful, treacherous and unspeakable thought that strokes the edges of Bombalurina's thoughts. She tries her best to push it away.

Because, for Heaviside's sake, how can you even _think_ of being jealous of someone like Demeter?

...What's it like, though, to - to need someone like that?

The thought is just there, unasked-for and unchecked.

Sometimes she's afraid she already knows.

Tugger, by the way, is just the guy she lives with, and that's thanks to the humans. And together they're beautiful and sexy and perfect and the best of casual friends, but not lovers.

Sometimes Bombalurina thinks the whole concept of love is highly overrated.

Or oversimplified.

Yeah.

One of them.

* * *

><p><strong>6.<strong>

"Hush!" says Demeter suddenly, and for no apparent reason. It's late evening. Munk's told tonight's story (Demeter listened quietly, occasionally smiling, sweet and slightly condescending, at his flights of fancy.) But now something is suddenly desperately wrong.

"You mustn't make a sound," she whispers. "Quiet as a mouse. Quiet."

"Dem -"

"You know... hickory dickory up the big noisy clock?" She's suddenly animated, eyes wide and smiling as if seeking some confirmation. "Big. Noisy. It probably burst their ear drums. It wasn't their fault, was it? They were only little"

"Demeter-"

"_Was it?_" she asks, teasingly.

It's killing him to see her like this. "It's- it's nobody's fault, Dem," he says. "And - everything's alright now. Just sleep now..."

"Can't sleep," she announces firmly.

"It's late... I - you'll feel better in the morning..." (He wishes he didn't know he was lying.)

"_I can't sleep_!" Demeter shouts, and lashes out at him with a blow that was never meant to connect, and then turns away, sobbing. "You don't - know-"

Munkustrap is devastated, all over again. "It's alright, it's alright, Dem... You're safe, I'm - we're right here. It's all alright..."

He reaches out but stops just short of touching her. Demeter wipes away her own tears.

She tries to steady her breathing. She tries to look at him but them closes her eyes. "Oh, Munk, I'm sorry. Munk. OK. I'll sleep."

They walk the few steps over to her bed. Demeter lies down on a cushion and Munkustrap gently helps arrange the blankets over her. They say their goodnights.

He walks outside, gulping in the night air.

This has happened before, and he's never known quite what to do. He worries that maybe it's the stories, but she seems to enjoy them so much... Maybe it's some cruel coping mechanism fashioned all hackneyed from something crushed inside her... The way her mind can sometimes just flip around, disconnect, and she'll stop making any sort of sense to them.

Physical wounds heal.

Then Bombalurina is there, melting out from the shadows.

"How is she?"

"...Not great."

"Elaborate."

"She was fine, and then... not. She said things that - don't seem to mean a thing, you know?"

Bombalurina nods and lowers her interrogative stare. She knows.

"I'm frightened we could lose her to herself," Munkustrap admits in a voice much smaller and weaker than he means it to be. Takes a breath. "To _him_, because it'll always be him, inside, doing that to her..."

"That won't happen," Bombalurina says fiercely. "It won't."

"Oh, Bomb..." A wave of exhaustion crashes over him. "How can you know that?"

"I - won't - let - it."

"I know... I know - and - of course I'll do everything too but -" He doesn't say it. He doesn't say _maybe some things you can't fix._

"...It won't happen," she repeats in a whisper, almost as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said. "It won't because..."

She swallows, mouth suddenly dry. There's a rushing in her ears like waterfalls and multitudes and cities falling to pieces. Maybe it's like breaking a spell, a curse, and that was never going to be easy, was it? Her mind pauses for a second. _This is it._

Bombalurina squeezes her eyes shut and finishes what she's begun to say. "I love Demeter. I love you. I will - I _will_... I..."

The storm has passed. She opens her eyes.

"I will love you, I promise, with everything I've got."

* * *

><p><strong>7.<strong>

"Thank you," he says, very soft and low, his eyes steady and so, so beautiful. "Thank you for - " He stumbles. Munkustrap's so very good at saying what he's meant to, never what he needs to. "...You have no idea how much it means to me," he finishes. It's a little lame maybe, a little cliché, but it makes Bombalurina's heart jerk inside her and she realises how badly she needed to hear him say what he's just said, and mean everything he didn't quite say -

"Yes I do..." she manages, and starts to cry. It's almost _intentional_, because she never has. A wall to break down. And the ultimate expression of trust.

Somehow they've woken Demeter. And then in she runs and sees them and looks at them and says "There! Don't cry! You're so silly..."

She half-bites her lip as if she's not sure about the great big smile that's appearing like a sunrise on her face as she looks on. "I'm so, so glad..."

And they cry and laugh and hold on to each other, and it's silly and beautiful and glorious.

* * *

><p><strong>8.<strong>

The fourth month. A few weeks to the Jellicle Ball. Munkustrap's story-telling skills are going public and he's organising a fullscale reproduction of the Aweful Battle Of The Pekes And The Pollicles (Together With Some Account Of The Participation Of The Pugs And The Poms)! ...He's rather regretting it by now, but oh, well, Demeter and Bombalurina are finding the whole rehearsal process utterly hilarious.

...Whatever happens at the Ball or ever, they're in it together now, and now they all know it for certain. Whatever happens, what they finally spoke and promised each other that night is still there and binds them for good. Nothing can take away that night from them. Bombalurina can cringe all she wants but like it or not yes she _did_ cry her heart out Munkustrap's arms and go on to say some very sentimental and truthful things that she'd hardly even allowed herself to think before.

It makes such a difference.

There is of course no magic, no instant solution. Only life. Hard work. Friendship. Such a meagre word, but it's the everything, and this time it's _enough_.

Baby steps.

We're not sure where we're going but now we're going there together... All that stuff. Yeah.

And...

Some things you can fix, given enough time. Enough love.

_This is love._

Where Bombalurina can be vulnerable, and Munkustrap can be himself, and Demeter can start it all again.

Simple as.

This is love.

* * *

><p><em>...for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow;<br>but woe to him that is alone when he falleth,  
>and who hath not another to lift him up!<br>Again, if two lie together, then they have warmth;  
>but how can one alone be warm?<em>

And if a man overpower the one, the two shall withstand him;  
>and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.<p>

- Ecclesiastes 4.9-12


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